Confessions of a Hostie 3 (16 page)

Most people feel tired after a one hour
flight. Cabin crew can spend over one hundred hours a month in the
air - month in and month out. I don't care what our airline says,
being an international hostie is unique and it is demanding.

I try to overcome the physical pressures of
the job with emotional balance. I love my job and the destinations
we go to. I'm off to Africa in the morning. I love Africa.

I'm packed and ready to go to Johannesburg,
South Africa; a city I've been to many times. Joburg, as it is
referred locally, is the world's largest city not situated on water
(a river, lake, or coastline). I favor cities on or near water.
Cape Town is more my preference in South Africa. Even so, there is
plenty to do in and around Joburg. Normally I venture away from the
city sprawl. I'm a huge lover of animal safaris. I've lost count of
how many I've been on. I won't go on safari unless I am with other
crew. Playing solo tourist in a country like South Africa is just
too risky

On my last visit to Joburg a nice guy from
the crew and I went to Sterkfontein Caves about an hour's drive
away. Sometimes known as
the cradle of
mankind
, the caves are the site of early hominid fossil
discoveries. It was fascinating stuff, however this time I don't
plan on leaving the city.

I belong to a charity through work and
although this is not an official company charity trip, one of the
other flight attendants on my flight, Franco, is also involved.
Franco is a lovely man, of Italian heritage, and softly spoken. His
partner also flies, although he is not on this trip. I know Franco
does his own charity work in Africa, mainly with a kindergarten in
Soweto, a massive shanty town in Joburg. Knowing this I have
collected toys and clothes also. Helen has come to the party as I
have a bag full of her kids' unwanted toys and clothes.

Franco too has goodies for the kids. I've
been to a number of different countries with my airline doing
charity work, although not as yet in South Africa. I ask Franco if
I can join him in delivering the toys and clothes. He is more than
happy to have me tag along. We are working at different ends of the
aircraft on this trip, so I won't have much of an opportunity to
chat throughout the flight, yet it looks like we are set to go to
Soweto.

I'm excited, yet a little apprehensive.

I've already been to Soweto as well as a
massive shantytown in Cape Town, called Khayelitsha, but only as a
part of a tour group. These tours were sanitized and supervised.
I've been in slums in the sub-continent, South-East Asia, South
America, and other parts of Africa. I am not immune, yet more
experienced than most. I am not really sure what to expect in the
section of Soweto we'll be going. What I saw as a tourist might be
very different to this time round.

I'm working on a cart with a comical fellow,
Thomas. The passengers love him. He's married, yet very cheeky,
being a bit of a flirt. Even so, I find Thomas harmless. I'd much
rather work with someone with oodles of personality than an
unobtrusive bore. Thomas tells a few jokes, with political
correctness not really his forte. Some of the jokes are about
women, but I couldn't care less.

Thomas is the sort of guy who adores women.
He tells the jokes to be lighthearted, not to be sexist. I don't
take the puns personally. I find most of them quite funny.

In my 20 years of flying I have never had
someone offend me with a joke. The skin is the heaviest organ in
the body. This is true. I have a thick skin.

Thomas confides that he had an incident
recently.

This is his side of the story:

He was working with two gay men and told,
what he termed, 'a gay joke'. He said the joke was quite racy. Both
men listened to the joke in its entirety and then screwed up their
faces, obviously not liking it. They said nothing at the time, but
after the trip, some five days after the joke was told, the men
wrote a scathing letter to our company accusing Thomas of being
homophobic. Thomas was called in to explain. He had an inkling what
the complaint was about, being prepared.

I might add at this point that Thomas and I
are working with several gay men on this trip and I haven't seen
any homophobic behavior from him. Thomas appears to treat everyone
equally, telling jokes about all sorts of subjects. He continues to
tell the story:

Thomas went into the office, with the
accusation sternly read to him.

'We take allegations of homophobic comments
and jokes very seriously' said the manager. 'Did you tell a
homophobic joke?'

'Most definitely not' said Thomas, 'I told a
joke about being gay. How can I be homophobic when I am gay? Surely
if I am gay I am allowed to tell a gay joke about myself.'

The manager was taken aback. Thomas appears
to be heterosexual.

'Gay? But you are married.'

Thomas told the manager that his sexual
preferences while away on trips was of no concern to the
company.

'And I would take a very dim view, as well as
retribution, should you out me in a public forum.'

The way Thomas tells it, nothing more was
said and there were no further repercussions. He continues his
justifications to me:

'Can Jerry Seinfeld get in trouble for
telling a Jewish joke?'

'Did Joan Rivers face repercussions for
joking about facelifts?'

'If I am gay myself, am I not entitled to
tell a gay joke?'

He had a big smile on his face when offering
his opinions. He is not gay, but then again - you never know.

Who am I or anyone else to make presumptions?
That was his point.

I thought Thomas's story to be very funny.
I'm not trying to take sides, yet why would these two fellow
workers wait until after Thomas had told the joke to backstab him?
If they were uncomfortable with a joke being told then surely they
would say 'I'd prefer you don't tell gay jokes.' Thomas told me the
joke. I can see how it would be offensive to some, but as soon as
he started telling the joke, it was obvious where it was heading.
The two complainers would have known that. They could have nipped
it in the bud right there, instead of going through the company
with all the rig moral associated with an official complaint.

I have seen it many times, where something
could have been easily avoided with a little common sense.

If someone made me feel uncomfortable or
uneasy, I would tell them. If they continued, then that is when I
would contemplate the next step. I've never had to do that. If some
guy flirted or asked me out on a date and I wasn't interested, even
if I was single at the time, I would reply 'Thank you, but I am not
available.'

Imagine a world where everyone was too
politically correct to ask someone out? Everyone would be single. A
little commonsense should prevail.

If someone grabbed me on the backside and
said 'nice butt' I would say 'please remove your hand or my knee
will connect with such force that you will never have a love life
again'.

I've never had to say that, thank goodness,
but I am always prepared.

I am constantly grabbed, tugged, yanked, and
bumped on the aircraft, but that is either by accident or
ignorance. They are not sexual acts or personally aimed at me. If
they were I would be the first to put a blunt stop to it. I still
get annoyed; everyone does, but I don't take it personally.

I do know of some girls who get very upset
when certain comments are made. On a trip last year one of the
hosties made a sexual harassment complaint against one of the other
crew. I heard some of the man's comments. In my opinion they
weren't derogatory or offensive. It was just her
interpretation.

If she had just said 'I'd rather you didn't
say that', which she didn't, then all the heartache which
accompanies a formal complaint would have been avoided. By the way,
this girl has a history of such complaints. I stayed well away from
her and will continue to do so in the future. I pick my mark in
this job. We deal with so many different personality types, not
just passengers, but also crew. We become very good at judging
people.

As I have said before: I am judgmental.
Everybody is.

I've judged Thomas as being harmless. He is a
lot of fun to work with. The more jokes he tells, the better, I
say. Most of the passengers are fantastic, except one - her name is
Mrs. Bacher. During boarding I was at the back of the plane. She
was first on plane, with her husband and daughter trailing behind.
This woman's screwed up expression would be viewable from the moon.
As she stepped onto the aircraft she looked ready to kill someone.
I saw her marching her way down the aisle. Even the poorest of
personality judges could tell that this woman is not happy.

Rather than hide, which to be honest is what
I'd like to do sometimes, I step into the aisle with the biggest
smile I can muster.

'Hello there, welcome onboard' I say
enthusiastically.

The woman starts ranting and raving. It is
not a few words muttered softly, but at least two minutes of
yelling and screaming. It is all to do with the position of her
seat. She and her family are in the very back row, occupying three
of the four seats across the middle of the plane. She obviously
already knew this - the expression on her face when boarding was a
dead give-away.

By the way, the back row seats are identical
to every other seat in the zone, but there is actually a bonus: no
one is seated behind. The seats still recline the standard
distance, yet no one can kick the back of the seat and the seat can
also be fully reclined for the entire flight without fear of
squashing someone.

I explain these advantages. I probably
shouldn't have as for some reason she yells even louder.

I ask to look at her boarding pass. I see the
name
Mrs. Bacher
. I have heard this
name in South Africa before and know it is pronounced
Bucker
.

There is a number on the boarding pass which
indicates where she was in the boarding sequence. In small print it
reads:
332
. She and her family were
one of the last to check in. They are the lowest priority on a
flight only a few seats shy of being full. The reality is they are
lucky to be seated together. I don't tell her this information. She
will only shout and scream more, no matter what justification I
give her. I find out this information for my own benefit and then
hand back the boarding pass.

I smile, trying not to take her insults
personally - and there are insults aplenty. She has criticized the
airline repeatedly and she is only a rant or two away from
attacking me. I interrupt, telling her I will talk with a manager
to see if there are other seats available.

She starts yelling 'There are no other seats
available. You know that' as I walk away (quickly).

There may have been more said, yet at the
speed I was walking I was out of earshot within seconds.

I go to the onboard manager, Rob, to explain
the situation with Mrs. Bacher. I've flown with Rob before. He is
great, very laidback. He looks up his paperwork. There is no other
information about Mrs. Bacher available. She is not a frequent
flyer, she is not a commercially important passenger, and she has
the cheapest ticket.

I rarely form a firm opinion of a passenger
in such a short space of time, however I tell Rob that this woman
will be trouble the whole flight.

It doesn't matter what we do - it won't be
good enough, I tell him.

'I've flown with you before' Rob says. 'I
trust your judgment Danielle. You handle the woman how you see fit.
I'll back you.'

I love a manager who doesn't treat you like a
child. Not only did his words justify my concerns, he delegated the
situation to be handled by me. I am the one who will be dealing
with this woman for most of this very long flight anyway. That's
very clever. He is busy. He trusts my decisions and ability.

The best leaders are those who get the best
out of those under them.

I could ignore Mrs. Bacher, but I decide to
go the other way - I will kill her with kindness. I put my
psychology skills to the test. I comment to Rob that, in my
opinion, it doesn't matter how well I treat her, I am doubtful she
will be turned around. Rob tells me the few seats at the back of
the plane which will available. None are together.

I know Mrs. Bacher will not move anyway, but
I walk to the back of the aircraft armed with a positive attitude
and a point to prove.

Mrs. Bacher is in the aisle seat. Her face
still looks like she has been sucking lemons. I approach her,
squatting down to talk to her at eye level. I make full eye contact
to talk in a soft, yet firm voice.

'Mrs. Bacher, I've talked to our manager -
his name is Rob. There will be a few seats available. We just need
to wait until the last of the passengers board...'

She does not let me finish. She continues
yelling and screaming, something about 'You don't expect me to move
now do you?'

As she squawks at me, my thoughts are: 'You
inconsiderate woman - here I am trying to help you and you are
yelling at me?'

Regardless of what I may be thinking, I
smile, and then interrupt her rants by saying 'Ok then, it's your
choice to stay where you are.'

I stand and walk away.

Thomas heard some of Mrs. Bacher's ranting,
as too most of the passengers in her area. He wants to know what's
going on. I tell him. His first reaction is to make life as
miserable as possible for this woman. I say 'no', telling Thomas
what I told the boss.